


I'll Always Be Here

by Lumiel_lightbringer



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, Car Accidents, Depression, Drunk Driving, Drunk Sam Winchester, Gen, Hurt Sam Winchester, Illnesses, Injured Sam Winchester, One Shot Collection, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Protective Dean Winchester, Sick Sam Winchester, Suicidal Thoughts, Teenage Dean Winchester, Teenage Sam Winchester, Teenage Winchesters, Underage Drinking, Violent Thoughts, Worried Dean Winchester, teen!dean winchester, teen!sam winchester - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-02-08 11:36:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18622540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lumiel_lightbringer/pseuds/Lumiel_lightbringer
Summary: A collection of teenage Sam and Dean Winchester one-shots. Lots of angst.I will take requests.I'll list how to and my limits on what I won't write in the ending notes for anyone interested in requesting something





	1. Table of Contents

**Author's Note:**

> This first chapter is the Table of Contents (duh, the chapter title says that) and I'll list all of the one-shots either after they're published or while I'm working on them 
> 
> I might change the names of some later because they suck but it's 10 PM here so my title-creativity is pretty low right now.
> 
> I hope you enjoy~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure if it counts as a warning so I'm just going to put this up here but just a general rule of thumb is, if it's written by me it will 99% of the time contains swears.  
> I don't want to waste time putting it into the chapter warnings because I might forget to put it in for some but forget for others, so just be prepared for some swearing.

**Sick Sam**

Sam catches the flu and Dean skips school to take care of him.

_Warnings: None_

 

**Drunk Driving**

Sam gets drunk and takes the Impala for a spin but ends up crashing it. Dean helps fix the car while nursing Sam's concussion.

_Warnings: Underage drinking, drunk driving, driving without a license, minor graphic content_

 

**Panic Attack**

Sam has his first panic attack at school and Dean tries to calm him down in the boys bathroom.

_Warnings: Mental breakdown, self-destructive thoughts, mention of anxiety and depression, angst_

 

**Failure**

Sam is brought along on a hunt, one of few he is actually  _active_ on, but after he hesitates and almost lets the creature get away, he finds himself having nightmares of his family berating him for being such a failure.

_Warnings: Angst, self-hate, self-destructive thoughts, minor violence/gore_

 

**Loser**

Sam is picked on at school, prompting Dean to come to the rescue.

_Warnings: Minor violent content, bullying, fat-shaming, minor angst_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To request: Comment on any chapter or message me  
> (I don't have a preference for which)  
> In request please tell me if you want the request to me anonymous or not (I will put the request in the summary and, if you want, the username of whoever requested it)
> 
> I will NOT write:  
> Omegaverse  
> Crossovers  
> OCs  
> x Reader


	2. Sick Sam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam catches the flu and Dean skips school to take care of him.
> 
> Warnings: None

Sam

"Sammy?" I hear Dean's groggy voice from behind me.

I rest my forehead on my arm, biting my lip as another wave of nausea flows through my body.

"Dean..." I rasp, my voice barely a whisper.

"Oh god, Sam-" Dean is at my side in no time.

 

I woke up feeling like the epitome of  _shit_. _(_ _I know I shouldn't swear but Dean does, so why can't I?_ _)_

My head felt like it was stuffed full of cotton. A painful migraine stabbed at the left side of my forehead.

Oh, and I had a fever going through the damn  _clouds_. How do I know? Well for one thing, I'm shivering and covered in goosebumps, yet I'm sweating my ass off and my skin is practically glowing red.

 

My throat hurt from the start, but the unending rounds upon rounds of dry heaving and vomiting up greasy food and bile has rendered my voice practically useless.

As the nausea kicks it up a notch _(which it did_ not _have to do)_ I gag and pull my arm away.

Sweaty bangs stick to my face as I pant breathlessly over the toilet bowl.

Dean has one arm around my stomach, holding me up, and another on my back, rubbing up and down my spine soothingly. His voice, normally low and slightly intimidating, turns into honey as he begins to whisper calming words into my ear.

"Breathe, Sammy, breathe. I'm right here," He pushes my bangs out of my eyes before returning his arm onto the nape of my neck, gently massaging to spot. "Everything's gonna be alright."

I look up at him shakily, my vision blurry and the world spinning around me, "Pr-romise?" I manage to sputter out. He nods and smiles, "Promise."

When I turn back to the basin, a dry heave wracks my body, causing my throat to click when nothing comes out. Dean's hand massages my back and I lean into the touch, trying to focus on his presence more than the overwhelming sickness that has taken over my helpless body.

Heaving again, a thin trickle of bile burning at my already raw throat escapes and drips into the water. I spit out the remaining bits, hating the burn in my mouth of the horrible taste.

This repeats who knows how many times before finally my body decides I've suffered enough.

Saliva strings from my mouth and down in the bowl. Dean gently wipes it away with a washcloth, his other arm still sturdily keeping me from collapsing onto the cold floor.

I hear Dean speaking, but his voice sounds far away and muffled, almost as if I'm underwater.

He uses his free hand to turn my head to face him. He speaks again, but I can't understand it for the life of me. If he weren't so God damn blurry I could probably manage to read his lips, but as I try to blink the fuzz out of my eyes, I begin to realise that I'm seeing  _three_ Deans in front of me.

He places the back of his hand onto my forehead, then my cheek.

I swallow before looking up at him weakly, unable to do much of anything. I don't even need to speak to know that my voice is gone. But Dean being the protective brother he is can probably see the problem by now, because he lifts me off the ground without another word.

He flushes the toilet with his elbow before adjusting his grip on me, so that I'm held bridal style with my head pressed against his chest. 

 

Dean carries me back into the motel room. He lays me down in our bed, pulling the covers up to my waist before holding up one finger and heading to the world's tiniest kitchen near the door.

He returns and  _fuck_ if that's not an ice pack than I have zero clue what it  _would_ be. He places it on my forehead, then some  _slightly_ less cold damp washcloths onto both sides of my neck, then one on my stomach.

Dean disappears yet again, but this time back to the bathroom. When he comes back he carefully opens my mouth with one hand, then placing a thermometer under my tongue and letting me close my lips.

After a few seconds he pulls it out and mutters something.

He takes a seat on the bed at my hips and places a hand over one of mine.

I try to smile at him, to do something,  _anything_ to let him know that I'm ok, but I can tell he isn't convinced. The three of him just chuckle and shake their heads. 

Who am I kidding? This is my big brother. He can see through my act when ever Dad can't.

Dean squeezes my hand before sighing and looking down.

Just because I'm younger and in severe pain doesn't mean that I can't see through  _his_ acts though. Because just from a small gesture like that, I know that, even though it's 2 am and Dad is out, leaving the other bed is empty, Dean will be worrying too much to sleep.

 

~

Dean

"You with me, Sammy?" I ask, putting down the washcloth. When I don't get a response, I repeat myself louder.

I place my hand on Sam's jaw and turn his face to be looking at me. 

"Sammy? You ok?" I ask, but he simply looks up at me with glazed over eyes.

With the back of my hand I feel his forehead, then his cheek to make sure, but yeah. That's a damn high fever.

Sam swallows with a lot of struggle before wetting his lips and staring at me. He's probably too dazed from the fever to even know what's going on.

 

So, I do what any older sibling would do. I lift him up over my shoulder before standing up. After I successfully flush the toilet, I adjust my grip so that Sam's head is on my chest and I can hold his back with one arm, the other under his knees.

I head back out the the beds, laying him down on our shared double-bed. I pull the covers up half-way before holding up a finger, since he obviously can't hear, or at least, understand me.

When I come back from the kitchen I carefully place an ice pack on his forehead. Sam flinches but I press it against the skin and he finally gives in. I place two damp washcloths over his neck, on both lymph nodes, then a third on his stomach. 

I inspect Sam and notice how flushed his skin is- all over, not just his face.

When I take his temperature, I am not surprised to see that his fever has reached 40.6°C. 

I take a seat on the bed, taking hold of his hand.

Sam smiles faintly at me, and I look down, shaking my head with a chuckle. He really does  _not_ want to be cared for, doesn't he?

I turn back, before inhaling slowly. Then, I let out a deep sigh and put my head down. It's going to be a  _long_ day.

 

~

Sam

"Morning Sammy," Dean calls as I rub my eyes.

I climb off the bed but am instantly hit with a sudden bout of dizziness. Grabbing onto the end-table I groan, or at least, try to. It comes out more as a really painful closed-mouth exhale.

"Don't feel that good, I take it." Dean says, and I suddenly realise he's cooking.

I try to speak but when literally  _nothing_ comes out, I decide to just keep my trap shut before anything as painful as that grunt happens again.

Instead I manage to stabilize myself enough to wobble over to the cheap motel table.

Dean shuts off the stove before placing down a bowl of oatmeal. He opens up a small packet of those odd, individually packaged raisins, and pours them in. 

"Eat up." He says, before grabbing a Styrofoam cup and heading to the sink, "What'll help, cold or warm water?" He asks, turning to look at me.

I pout before pointing to my throat and he nods, "Oh, is your voice gone already? You  _just_ got sick."

I shrug and he sighs, "Alright, hold up one finger for cold water and two fingers for warm water."

After careful pondering I hold up one finger and he nods, filling the cup before placing it down beside the Styrofoam bowl of oatmeal.

I take the spoon and take a bite. The warmth relaxes my throat and soothes the raw, aching pain. It only takes a few minutes for me to finish off the meal before I'm drinking the cold water.

The contrast shocks me (and my teeth) at first, but once I swallow a gulp of the water, my throat graciously accepts it and I down the entire cup in a minute.

Dean chuckles as I place down the cup. "Guess I'm the Gordon Ramsay of oatmeal." He says as he grabs the trash and throws it out.

When he turns back I point at his watch and tilt my head. Luckily he understands and looks down at it before saying, "It's 11:43 AM. You were out cold- well actually you were out hot... But you get the point. You slept like a rock."

I point at him and he sighs before saying, "Dude, the world's crudest sign language only makes sense 1/8 of the time. Here." He reaches into his bag and pulls out a notebook and pen and slides it across the table to me.

I take it and write down,  _Did you sleep?_

He reads it before shaking his head, "No, but I wasn't tired. I just made sure your fever went down, and stayed down, and read some of Uncle Bobby's books."

I nod before suddenly realising: 11:43 AM. We should be at school. I quickly scribble down,  _Holy crap we're late for school_ then show it to Dean. I stand up and grab my backpack but my brother quickly has his hands on my shoulders.

"Woah, slow down tiger. You're in no shape to be going to school."

I glare at him before writing,  _Then what about you?_

He shrugs and replies nonchalantly, "I skipped."

I stare at him for a few seconds before rolling my eyes.  _Dad's gonna be pissed._

"Hey, that's a  _bad word_." He says in a mocking tone to which I roll my eyes yet again and he grins, "But no, he won't be. Because he doesn't have to know."

Staring up at him he sighs before elaborating, "I'm skipping just for the hell of it, Sam, I'm doing it to take care of you. So... Please don't tell Dad?" 

I shrug before replying,  _I don't know man, is there an illegal pack of beer in my future?_

He grins before chuckling and saying, "God I'm such a bad influence.  _No_ , there will be  _no beer_ , but I can tell Dad you got alcohol poisoning and that's why you're sick if you tell him I skipped. Deal?"

After shooting him a very ineffective glare, I nod.

"Good. Now, you get some rest. You look like shit."

He guides me back to bed and helps me lay down. He sits down beside me after pulling up the covers. With the back of his hand he checks my fever, nodding in satisfaction that it will stay down.

I look up at him and smile as a silent thanks.

He smiles back, then pats my arm and stands up, "Rest up, Sammy."


	3. Drunk Driving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drunk Driving
> 
> Sam gets drunk and takes the Impala for a spin but ends up crashing it. Dean helps fix the car while nursing Sam's concussion.
> 
> Warnings: Underage drinking, drunk driving, driving without a license, minor graphic content

Dean

_Sam_

_Sam where the hell r u_

_Sam ur worrying me_

_Sam_

_SAM_

_yea_

_m here_

_Thank god. where r u_

_here??_

_Sam I need a damn location not a 'here' this isnt homeroom_

_oh_

_uh_

_im_

_Sam_

_yea_

_WHERE R U_

_outside_

_thank u einstein what the fuck else is new_

_i need a location_

_a road sign or something_

_uh_

_is dark_

_yes sam thats what happens at night_

_idk whre i am_

 

_fine fine just describe the location or send me a pic_

_myh phon low on power_

_ok great just fucking great just describe ur damn location sam_

_dark_

_weve already established that it is in fact dark at night_

_uh trees_

_lota trees_

_the road isnt pavd kinda_

_gravl_

_ithik_

_idk_

_my head hurs_

_sam just calm down i think i know where u r_

_im coming to get u just stay put_

_ok_

_sam_

_yea_

_where the fuck_

_is the impala_

_wit me??_

_den?_

_deeeen?_

 

~

Dean

I'm going to kill him. Well, I'm going to first find him, make sure he is ok, get him home safe, and  _then_  I'm going to kill him.

All of Dad's beer is fucking gone, my brother is no where to be found and most likely drunk, and I just fucking found out that he has Dad's car.

Great. Just fucking great.

Dad will be back at the motel tomorrow night and this is probably the  _one_ case where he doesn't need the damn car. I am going to get the  _shit_  beaten out of me if I don't find Sam.

Not to mention the fact that Sam is most likely drunk driving the Impala, which makes this entire situation 10000% worse.

Well, at least I have an idea of where he is. This stupid town is already really damn small, and there are only a collection of gravel roads, and only a slight few with trees since we're in the  _Great Plains_  that aren't so damn  _great_.

 

It takes two hours. Two god damn hours to find my drunken, idiotic little brother.

But when I do, I find him in the worst way possible.

 

My flashlight gleams on a black metal, and I glimpse at the license plate. Fuck.

This totaled car is- well,  _was_  the Impala.

And my stupid...  _Stupid_  little brother is in the driver's seat, completely knocked out and drenched in blood.

I haul him out and check for a pulse.

Thankfully it's there. Weak, but still there. I check to see if I can even try to drive this wreck of a car back to the motel.

Apparently, for once, luck is on my side, because the engine roars to life. 

I place Sam in the back seat so he is laying down.

I get into the driver's seat and managed to back out of the odd shape of the now-dented  _tree_ , and back onto the bumpy road.

 

I rush Sam inside as soon as I pull into the motel.

Using a towel I apply pressure to the wound of his forehead. He groans and turns his head to the side, but doesn't wake up. 

"It's ok, everything's ok," I mumble, more trying to calm myself down than anything, "It's all ok, Sammy. Everything is ok." I whisper, laying him down onto our bed.

I mop away enough blood to see the actual cut. It's deep, and absolutely  _disgusting_ , but I've dealt with worse.  _(What? Dad gets injured so of course I help him. Sam's hands are too shaky and anyway, I wouldn't want to scar him for life.)_

After quickly grabbing the first-aid kit from a drawer in the bathroom, I start collecting the other supplies I need to fix up Sammy. I grab my lighter from my backpack and wet a washcloth with lukewarm water, soaking it in soap before squeezing some out.

I quickly wash around the wound with the washcloth, careful not to get any soap into the cut itself. Then, I open up the med-kit and pull out the rest of the materials: gauze, a needle, and thread.

Using my lighter, I sterilize the needle before threading it.

Carefully, I lean down and place the needle over the beginning of the gash. It takes only a few minutes, but it feels like excruciating hours as I stitch up the deep wound.

When I'm finally done, I grab my pocket knife and cut off the thread, finishing off the stitch. I clean up my materials before quickly returning to Sam's side. 

 

~

Sam

My head feels like it's being stabbed from every angle. I open my eyes, only to shut them quickly when light burns in through the windows.

"Sorry, Sammy." I hear Dean say, then the light on my eyelids darkens and I carefully open them again. This time, I'm greeted by a welcome darkness.

Dean sits down beside me and runs a hand through my hair. "How ya' feeling, Sammy?" He asks, smiling lightly down at me.

"Horrible." I choke out before a coughing fit starts attacking my lungs. I roll onto my stomach then use my arms to push my body off the mattress. Dean hits my back a few times with his hand as I cough, and thankfully that gets out the disgusting amounts of mucus and blood from my body.

"Whoa, dude." Dean mutters before lifting my off the bed, one arm wrapped around my stomach and the other looped under my right arm. I'm moved onto Dad's bed- but he isn't coming home until tonight, if my sense of time is correct.

Dean removes the bloodied up sheets and bundles them and throws them into a pile beside the door. "Good enough." He mutters before sitting down beside me again.

"Ok, so, Sammy. You hungry? Thirsty?" 

"Thirsty," I reply, and he nods before leaving to get me a drink. Once I have the water bottle in my hands, Dean takes a seat on the now-sheet-less bed across from me.

"Alright. Now." He starts, and I slowly pull the bottle from my lips. "Tell me, Sammy, what inspired you to go drunk driving Dad's car when you aren't legally allowed to do either of those things?" He emphasizes the  _either_ , making me bite my lip awkwardly.

"Well go on. Tell me." His tone has dropped into a demanding one.

I look down and sigh, "Dean..." I mumble, but before I can continue he cuts me off, "No sob stories, Sam. Either you tell  _me_ or you tell me  _and Dad_. You have ten seconds to start talking or  _I will_."

"Fine! Fine, Dean. Just... Don't tell Dad,  _please_?"

He raises his eyebrows and turns to the side before shaking his head, "I won't." He finally says.

I hesitate before nodding and talking, my voice soft, "I-I was all alone... You were out and Dad was out on the hunt... I got lonely. I was scared you wouldn't come back... I-I thought I heard something and I just... Ended up having a panic attack..."

"So you call me and I'll come home!" He interrupts, "You don't get  _drunk_ and start  _driving_ and not the mention,  _crashing_ the car!"

"I'm sorry, Dean! I am! I made a stupid mistake... It won't happen again... I promise."

"Look me in the eyes." Dean suddenly says. Slowly, I peer up from my bangs and meet his gaze. "You promise?"

"I promise." 

"Good." Dean nods. He smiles at me comfortingly again, as if a few seconds ago he wasn't threatening me.

He leans over and runs a hand through my hair, "You ok?"

"Yeah... Yeah. I could use some painkillers, but I'll live."

"Alright. Let's get you some medicine, then  _you_ get to help me fix the Impala." My eyes widen and he chuckles, "What, afraid of a bit of manual labor, Sammy?"

I glare at him and he grins, "C'mon."

I let out a loud groan before standing up, a smile creeping up on my features as I follow my laughing brother.


	4. Panic Attack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam has his first panic attack at school and Dean tries to calm him down in the boys bathroom.
> 
> Warnings: Mental breakdown, self-destructive thoughts, mention of anxiety and depression, angst

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just based off of my own experiences with panic attacks (they suck.)

Sam

Fuck fuck fuck  _fuck_! No this can  _not_ be happening. Oh God, oh God this is it. This is it, this is when I die.

I can't fucking breathe, oh God, I can't  _fucking_ breathe!

I just need to get to the bathroom- just need to get there then I will figure this out. Oh God I might throw up- ok I will  _definitely_ throw up-

Oh shit the bathroom smells like- well,  _shit_.

Ok ok, ok, I just need to... I just need to... Fuck me I don't even know what I need to do- Why can't I be such a quick thinker like Dean? Why do I have to- oh  _fuck_

Oh God it takes like shit- it burns, it burns it fucking  _burns_. I can't breathe- I can't breathe. Why does it hurt so much... I didn't even eat that much, I don't get how my stomach can just fucking  _explode_ into twice it's size- oh God...

 

I'm gonna die. I'm gonna die. I'm gonna die in a damn school bathroom... I don't want to die in a school bathroom- I don't want to die this way in general.

I just want it to be over. I really,  _really_ just want it to be over...

Please...

_Please..._

_Please..._

 

~

Sam's body slumps against the stall, his head aching and spinning. The sudden feeling of suffocation had taken over only seconds before he had raced out of class. The bathroom was empty, until the door opened and Sam, though near unconsciousness, heard a familiar voice.

"Sammy? Sammy, you in here?"

" _Please..._ " His voice comes out as a whimper, his throat raw from throwing up everything in his stomach and more.

Dean finds Sam in the bathroom stall, curled up against the metal wall. His bangs are coated in sweat and his lips have strings of saliva and bile dripping from them.

The older brother kneels down and quickly wipes away the mess on his brother's face.

"Hey, you with me?" Dean asks, tapping his brother's face with his hand a few times. A weak groan supplies enough of a  _yes_ for Dean, before he starts talking to the younger.

"Can you tell me what's wrong?" When he gets no response but Sam's head lolling to the side as tears stream down his face with seemingly no end, Dean asks louder, "Sammy, what's wrong?"

"I... Can't... Breathe..." Sam manages to choke out, wheezing in after each word. "Oh, Sammy..." Dean murmurs, finally understanding.

The older embraces Sam into a firm, but not too tight hug. "I want you to follow my breaths, ok, Sammy?" Dean speaks in a soothing voice. Sam gives a shaky nod, before letting a sob escape.

"Shh, it's ok, I'm here." Dean quickly hushes the cries down before they can escalate too far.

"Follow my breaths. In..." He breathes in slowly, Sam trying desperately to follow along, "and out..." Dean exhales and Sam manages a shaky breath before another sob wracks his body, and the hysterics take back over.

"He-he-help m-me, De'," Sam chokes out before another sob jolts his body. Dean rubs the younger's back before responding softly, "I am, I am, Sammy, I am..."

"It hu-hurts," he slurs out, but Dean understands anyway. "I know, I know..." He whispers, tightening his grip on his younger brother. One hand on the back of Sam's head holds him to Dean's chest, the other hand massaging circles into Sam's back.

Dean presses his lips to his brother's forehead and places a kiss there before continuing to whisper quiet comforts. Sam's tears soak the older Winchester's shirt, his sobs coming out muffled against the fabric.

It takes a while, yes, but after enough comforting words, Sam's body and mind come to an agreement. The younger slumps against Dean's body, the sobs ceasing and leaving only post-cry hiccups in their place.

Sam's tear-striped face is swollen and red, his eyes blood-shot while the eyelids mirror the rest of his face. Sam closes his eyes, the tremors in his body beginning to slow.

The tears have stopped completely, and Dean lets out a sigh of relief when Sam's thin frame goes limp in his arms, his brother now fast asleep in the safety of his older brother's embrace.

 

~

The rumble of the Impala's tires on the gravel roads wakes up Sam from his more-or-less peaceful sleep.

"Sorry, bud, I can't really control what shitty material they pave the roads with." Dean says from the driver's seat.

Sam groans before sitting himself up in the back seat. "Why aren't we at school..." Sam asks, rubbing his eyes with closed fists.

"Technically, we  _are_ we just aren't  _in the building_." Dean replies, nodding at the school building to their right.

"Oh." Is Sam's only response. Dean turns the wheel and exits the parking lot, getting onto the main road that, honestly, doesn't really feel like a main road when only three cars are ever on the road at one time.

"So, how ya feeling, Sammy?" Dean breaks the stubborn silence as they pull up to a red light.

"Tired. Swollen. Bad." 

"If that ain't a three-word summary of our lives..." Dean agrees before grabbing something from the glove-compartment. He tosses it back to Sam, who catches the granola bar easily.

"Eat. You missed lunch and we're out of cash until Dad gets back."

Sam gratefully eats the snack before sighing and leaning back against the old, weathered seat.

"Dean," the younger speaks in a quiet, self-conscious tone.

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry..." His voice breaks and Dean is quick to pull over to the curb, turning around to face Sam. The older cups Sam's face in his hands and looks into his tear-filled eyes.

"It's ok. It's ok, Sammy. I'm not mad."

Sam bites his lip before a tear slips and he lets out a choked sob.

"Oh, Sammy," Dean coos, climbing into the back seat and embracing his brother into a tight hug.

"I-I'm just... A big  _fat_ mistake..." Sam mumbles against Dean's neck before sobbing loudly.

"You aren't a mistake, Sammy," Dean replies instantly. 

"Yes I am... I killed Mom-"

"Don't talk like that, Sam." Dean's voice raises, his grip on Sam tightening.

"It's true, De... If I was never born she'd be alive... You could be happy..."

"No, I couldn't. I could never be happy without you, Sam."

"That's not true..."

"Sam." Dean scolds, "Don't talk like that. You know how much I love you, Sammy."

"But-"

"No 'but's, Sam! There are none! Every negative you see, I don't."

"Dean... I'm... I'm just a broken, fat, ugly, mistake-"

"Sammy, please." The older's voice breaks and he places his nose on the top of Sam's head, "It hurts me when you talk like this."

Sam tenses up and he buries his head into Dean's neck, "I'm sorry!" He exclaims, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Dean- I-I don-don't wan-nna hurt yo-ou, De'!" He hiccups before pressing his body closer to his brother's.

"It's ok, Sammy, it's ok... I know how hard it is for you, right now..."

"Please- please don't be ma-ad!"

"I'm not mad, Sammy. I'm not mad." His voice softens and he rubs the younger's back, trying to get Sam to calm down, "Just relax, ok? Everything's gonna be ok, Sammy."

"Bu-but-"

"Shh, shh, relax. Just relax. I'm not mad. I'm not mad, Sammy."

Sam moans and curls then uncurls his fists, the panic needing some form of outlet, if not talking.

"I got you, I got you..." 

He digs his nails into his palms before moaning again. He tenses up his entire body, then relaxes, then tenses up again. He repeats the action multiple times, hoping that when he relaxes, the panic will leave with the tension.

"I'm here, Sammy, I'm here..."

He bites his tongue until it hurts too much, then he bites his lip until he tastes blood.

"I got you, Sammy..."

He bites his index finger until markings appear on the skin. He adds another finger and repeats the process until Dean pulls his hand away from his mouth, a worried crease above his eyebrows. "Don't hurt yourself, Sammy,"

"I-it-it I-I-I ne-eed-" A harsh sob escapes his lips as Sam struggles for words.

"Shh, don't talk, Sammy," Dean murmurs, pulling his brother's trembling form back against his chest, "You'll just get more worked up... Just relax, ok?"

Sam nods but the action ends up being more of a jolt as the vertigo sets in.

"I'm here, Sammy... I'm here. I'll keep you safe... I promise, I'll protect you. Everything will be ok."

The sobs slow down.

"I got you, bud, I got you... I just need you to calm down, ok?"

The tears begin to dry up.

"Deep breaths, alright? Deep breaths. Just follow my breathing, ok? In... and out... In..."

The sobs quiet down.

"and out... In..."

The tears come to a halt.

"and out... In..."

The tremors slow down.

"and out... In..."

His body relaxes.

"and out..."

They sit in blissful silence, only the sound of Sam sniffling breaking it. Dean doesn't mind.

He simply holds his baby brother in his arms, as he has done for so many years. He looks down and smiles at the sight: Sam lying in his cradling hold, eyes shut, breathing softly and sniffling quietly.

"I love you, Sammy..." Dean whispers, before leaning his head back against the headrest.

He shuts his eyes, and soon, joins his brother in the peaceful realm of sleep.

 


	6. Loser

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam is picked on at school, prompting Dean to come to the rescue.

~

The crowded halls are filled with booming voice, making it almost impossible to think.

Sam trudges through the hallway the best he can, awkwardly shifting past the groups until he reaches his locker.

He turns the dial to _17-48-21_ before opening the door.

Sam stuffs away his history textbook reaches in for his math binder, only to be pushed aside by a kid in a baseball cap.

" _Dude_!" The kid shouts, angrily stomping towards Sam, "What the hell, man!"

Sam's eyes widen and he backs up, biting his lip, "I-I didn't do any-" He begins, voice wavering, when the kid slapped him.

"Watch where you're going, asshole," The boy says, glaring at him.

"You bumped into me!" Sam cries, a hand reaching up to his face. Sam's eyes widen when he realises the mistake he just made. "I'm- I'm sorry, I didn't mean-" He sputters out weakly.

Stars enter his vision in less than a second as the kid punches him in the nose. Hot tears pour out of Sam's eyes as he stumbles to stand up. His face throbs with pain as the beginnings of bruises begin to form under the skin.

"Maybe if you had a sign saying 'Wide load' I wouldn't've bumped into your fat ass!" He shouts, grabbing Sam by the hair and pulling him back up. A sharp pain explodes from his scalp as clumps of his hair are pulled out.

Sam struggles to compose himself, but fails when he realises that all eyes are on him.

Students from all grades have stopped to watch the fight.

Sam lets out a choked noise and grabs the boy's wrist, "Let go!" He screams, pulling him off and pushing him away.

The boy stumbles before snarling out, "What? Sumo-Sam wanna wrestle?"

Sam hears the surrounding students snickering, and his face turns red. He races forward and punches the kid hard in the chest, only to have him grabs Sam's arms and turns him to the lockers, banging him against the metal.

Sam grunts and glares at the taller, "Let me  _go_!" He shouts, thrashing in his grasp. He manages to loosen his grip, but also ends up hitting his head against the locker.

"Shit-" Sam swears, a hand grabbing the side of his head as it pulses with pain.

The kid hits Sam across the face again, and again, and again.

Sam ends up on the ground, staring up at the taller with terrified eyes. Blood drips down his chin- both his nose and mouth expelling the red liquid.

"Squeal for me, piggy," the boy laughs out before knocking Sam unconscious with a hard blow to the forehead.

 

 

~

Dean heads down the hall, book-bag slung haphazardly over his shoulder.

He enters the  _B_ hallway and is about to enter his class when he sees a group of kids blocking off the hallway a few feet ahead.

Dean approaches them and stares in, expecting to see two dumbasses caught in what they consider a fist-fight, but what Dean considers a tickle-fight.

When Dean catches sight of the long-haired kid on the ground, he drops his bag and pushes his way in.

"Sammy!" He kneels down beside the younger and, seeing his closed eyelids, turns to the kid responsible. The boy stands a step behind Sam, laughing at the sight.

Dean grabs him by the collar and lifts him up and against the lockers, "You think this is fucking funny?!" He shouts, slamming him against the metal again, "How about you leave the  _kids_ alone and pick on an asshat your age, dickweed!" He screams. 

He punches the kid as hard as he can before dropping him harshly to the ground. "Get the hell out of here before I kill you!" He shouts. The boy scrambles to his feet and pushes out of the crowd as fast as he can.

Dean turns to the surrounding students, and glares, "All of you!" He exclaims, and within a few minutes, the halls are cleared.

Dean leans down and lifts Sam into his arms, "Sammy? Sammy, you with me, bud?" He asks, worriedly.

He jostles him a few times, tapping his cheek lightly until he opens his eyes. "You with me?" He asks again, peering into the younger's eyes to check for a concussion.

"Yeah... Yeah..." Sam mumbles, his head lolling against Dean's chest. "Hur's... Head hur's..." He murmurs, voice slurring slightly. 

"I know, I know," Dean replies, carrying him down the halls, "I'mma take you home, ok?" He peers down at Sam to make sure he heard. 

"M'kay..." He mumbles, eyelids closing again.

Dean carries him down the stairs and into the office. 

By the time the two return to the motel room, Sam is fast asleep.

 

 

~

Sam sits up in bed, rubbing his eyes with a closed fist.

Dean smiles at him sleepily from a chair that he clearly moved to the edge of the bed. "Morning, sunshine." He mumbles.

Sam returns a small smile before resting his head against the headboard.

"You ok?" Dean asks, the previous tiredness gone at once.

"Just... Just a bit upset." Sam replies quietly, staring off at the wall.

"About the fight?" Dean asks, wincing at the thought.

"I guess." He shrugs before looking down and realising he has the whole bed. Sam quickly scoots over and mumbles, "Sorry, De'."

Dean shakes his head, "It's fine, Sammy. I'm not tired."

Sam gives him a look, "You looked  _exhausted_ like 5 seconds ago." He accuses, getting an eye roll from Dean. 

"It's called, _daydreaming_ , Sam. People do it."

"Odd time to bring up sex, but o-k." 

Dean glares at him before laughing and getting in bed. Sam smiles and lays his head on Dean's chest. 

"Oh, so this was all just a cleverly laid trap to get a chick-flick moment?" Dean mumbles, wrapping an arm around the younger and pulling him closer.

"Maybe it was." Sam replies, smiling up at him.

They sit in blissful silence for a few minutes before Sam sighs and looks up at Dean. "That guy called me fat, De'..." He begins, his voice filled with disappointment, "Am I really fat?" He asks softly.

Dean responds first with wide-eyes before speaking, "No, not at all!" His voice is filled with honest shock and confusion, "You're like the skinniest person I know!"

"You don't know that many people, De'." Sam mumbles, and Dean shakes his head.

"Not the point, Sam." He rubs the younger's back before adding, "My point is that you are  _not_ fat! The guy was a dick. I think I broke his nose-"

Sam laughs lightly at that, his fingers playing with the fabric of Dean's shirt. "Think he broke  _mine_ ," Sam replies.

Dean shakes his head, "Nah, I checked. Just bruised. Got a nasty concussion though."

Sam's eyes go wide and he looks up at him, "Am I gonna die?" He asks, mouth parted slightly.

"What? No!" Dean gives him a bewildered look, "What are they teaching you in health class?"

"I don't have a health class, Dean." Sam mumbles, " _You_ are my health class."

"God I hope not," Dean mutters, "I am  _not_ teaching you Sex Ed. That is for me to know and you to most likely find out through a series of events including finding my porn magazines and walking in on me and some chick."

Sam scrunches up his face, "I don't like the sound of any of that," He mumbles.

Dean chuckles and rubs his back, "Puberty's a bitch, Sammy." He grins down at him before shaking his head, "But really, bud, you have nothing to worry about with that asshat at school. I told him to fuck off and fuck off he did."

Sam smiles faintly, but doesn't seem quite convinced.

"And if he does, just call me and I'll murder him." He adds.

At that, Sam bursts out laughing. Dean chuckles and smiles at the younger, glad to see him smile for real.

A few moments pass and the two calm down. The silence is broken by Sam asking, "Dean, could you train me harder in fighting?"

Dean nods and pats him on the back, "Sure thing. But fair warning: I'm a total badass."

Sam grins and shakes his head, "I know you are. Practically a superhero."

A smile forms on Dean's face at his brother's praise. "That'll make you my sidekick." He replies.

Sam punches him weakly and says, "No one likes the sidekicks, De'!"

"Well then we can be like the Justice League! Just without all the other people. The Justice Brothers."

"Sounds cheesy," Sam replies, getting a light whack from Dean.

"Then- the Batman Brothers?"

"Batman  _is_ pretty badass..." Sam mumbles. Dean laughs and says, "Remember when you were five and jumped off the shed in a Batman costume because you thought you could fly?"

Sam glares up at him, "Hey, if  _bat_ is in the name then he should  _totally_ be able to fly!"

"True, true. So, how about it? Are we the, able-to-fly Batman Brothers?"

"Hell yeah!"

 

**Author's Note:**

> To request: Either comment or message me  
> (I don't have a preference over either option. Whichever you want. Just make sure to tell me whether or not to say in the notes who requested it or if it should be anonymous.)
> 
> I will NOT write:  
> Omegaverse  
> Crossovers  
> OCs  
> x Reader


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